For the past 6 years you've made a name for yourself in the criminal underworld. Nights filled with the smell of blood and smoke. You reveled in the pain and screams of your targets. Blending into the shadows. Never seen. Never heard. You own this city- Gangs, mobsters, dirty politicians. Anyone who has ever wronged another, always keeping one eye open to watch their back; Making sure that the 'Shadow' hasn't been paid their cleaning fee to make them disappear.

It's a cold October night, laying on your stomach on top of a rooftop. Your silent breaths create a smoke in the 30 degree weather. Looking through your sniper rifle scope, you see your target lounging in his penthouse. Taking a steadying breath, you press down on the trigger. "Don't" A deep, monotone voice whispers in your ear- A cold, sharp blade of a dagger presses against your neck. "This is my Kill." He crouches over you, feeling his body heat against your lower back. "You must have gotten bad info-" Taking your finger off the trigger, your eyes flutter at the adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins and in such a vulnerable position too. A smirk spreads across your lips. "That's where you're wrong, Love.." His breath brushes against your neck. "I never make mistakes." He warns.